The Lucky Ones
by tilleytastic
Summary: Life in District 12 marches on, and fifteen-year-old Maysilee Donner is sure she knows everything there is to know. That is, until she meets a boy from the Seam, and suddenly Maysilee realizes that her world— or rather her own tiny corner of the world— isn't what it appears. There are only thirty days until the Second Quarter Quell, and Maysilee has no idea where her loyalties lie.
1. Prologue

_Prologue—0:00:00:00_

"Maysilee Donner!"

I can't stop myself from wrenching free of Laurelie's tight grip, or from walking through the crowd that parts like an ocean until I am on display in front of everyone I have ever known.

My whole body feels like ice. I stare out over the entire District, but I may as well be blind for all that I really process. I pretend not to hear Laurelie's muffled sobbing, either. My heart is beating too hard for me to really do anything besides stand beside Ambrosina's podium.

The girl next to me—Rissa, I think her name is—has the look of the Seam and panicked tears streaming down her cheeks. I don't blame her. My mind takes the two of us right into whatever arena awaits us, and my fear makes me tremble. I'm lost in a world of horrible possibilities until I hear Ambrosina's voice boom out over the crowd again.

"Abernathy, Haymitch!"

My eyes snap upwards to lock with his gray ones as he makes his way towards the podium. There's something written in his expression that I can't place… after all, it isn't that cocky confidence that I always imagine when anybody says his name. It takes me a moment to realize that I'm seeing fear in him, too.

Forcing myself to keep from crying or fainting or vomiting or who-knows-what-else, I finally look into the crowd. It's a struggle to avoid my sister's face, but I manage it anyways. As far as I can tell, the expressions across the crowd are split into two categories: the steely gaze of hearts hardened to the grief of the Reaping, and the tearful worry of families and friends that see their loved ones, people like me, on the podium.

It isn't until the last tribute is called, a bookish Seam boy by the name of Plato, with big glasses and lanky limbs, that I realize just why everyone seems so resigned to our fates. They don't expect to see any of us come home again. I glance to my right and left. Haymitch's jaw is locked, Rissa's still crying softly, and Plato looks dazed, like he's in a dream. I don't think any of us have delusions of grandeur either.

We're going to die in the arena.


	2. Chapter 1

_30:03:52:01_

"How long could it possibly take to do Laurie's hair? There's not _that_ much of it." My waspish tone goes ignored by Valyrie, who merely holds up one finger. Her mouth is currently the resting place of atleast three pins, so I understand why exactly she couldn't shush me verbally.

"Val's an artist," my sister Laurelie informs me loftily. "She could do your hair, if you were half as good a test subject as I am." The experimental hairstyle in question was pinned up into a complicated looking coronet. I see her peek at me from the corner of her eye, and obligingly stuck my tongue out at her.

Valyrie, finally free from pins, just rolls her eyes and sighs. She's used to us bickering like infants—we've only known each other our whole lives, after all.

That's how it is in any of the Districts: you're born here, you work and play and live and love here, then you die here. A cycle encouraged by the Capital and everyone with a lick of sense. In District 12, the furthest from society, we're especially trapped in a sort of rut. I hate it.

"Girls! We can't have you running late!" My mother's piercing voice makes me cringe out of habit. As the problem Donner girl, I completely expect to be chastised every time my parents raise their voices. Not that our father does much of anything besides work, nowadays.

Val's eyes widen as she glanced from the top of Laurelie's head to me. "Suppose we should head out, then?" Giving her work one last once over, she grabs her satchel off my bed and heads to the door where I've been diligently waiting for atleast a solid five minutes.

I notice Laurie's slight pout and fight the urge to smother her. Instead I raise my eyebrows and cross my arms tightly. Probably smarter to slow myself down, just in case.

"Are you sure this blouse looks alright? I can't show up to our first day of school looking _sloppy_." My twin's voice is whiny like a child's, but the way she looks at us is so desperate for approval that I'm hard pressed to make a dismissive comment.

"You look lovely." Valyrie reassures Laurie before I can, so empathetic nodding on my part will have to suffice.

"Even if you did look wretched, we both know you'd look better than I do right now." Wiggling my eyebrows, I lead the way out of our room to the kitchen. I did not dress up for my last first day of school. I'm wearing the same skirt I've favored most of the days this summer, along with the blouse that matches best. My shoes aren't new like Laurelie's, and my satchel has definitely seen better days.

"You could atleast let me do something with your hair," Val murmurs, reaching her hand up to twist a few chunks of pale blonde hair around her finger.

"If we have time in the school yard, I'll let you." It's a bribe, but it gets her motivated. Valyrie shoots my mother one of her quick, graceful smiles on the way out of our apartment above the general store.

"Thank you for having me over, Mrs. Donner. I hope you have a lovely day!" Even Laurelie rolls her eyes at that. Val's probably one of the most polite people I've ever encountered, which probably makes our friendship a godsend, since I'm one of the least polite people I've ever encountered.

On the street, we walk with our heads together, and could all probably pass as sisters. Three blonde, blue eyed merchant girls of roughly the same height—which is to say, short—are probably pretty easy to overlook.

We are, in fact, quite deeply ensconced in our own little world until we were a block from the school. The laughter came first, an ominous sign that had my head on a swivel. It took less than a minute before the pack was upon us. That is to say, they stroll along the opposite side of the street, oblivious to our stares.

"No one I recognize," I muse, careful to keep my voice low as I crane my neck to see them better. Laurie makes a halfway decent wall, sometimes. "Must be from the Seam. Think they're going to school?"

"Do kids from the Seam even go to school when they're our age?" Val's head tilts curiously as she peeks around me. "I thought they start work as soon as they can."

"They _have_ to come the first day, if only to confirm their absence for the rest of the year. Which is a waste of time, if you ask me."

Both Val and I stare at Laurie in surprise. It's a tone I haven't heard from her in a while, that frosty, dismissive voice she uses at the general store when a customer is being particularly troublesome.

"What's got you all upset?" I ask, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. "Is there someone I have to beat up?" The question hasn't even left my lips and she was already shaking her head, denying me.

"No one worth your time. We've got ten minutes before class, and you promised Val she could do something about that wretched ponytail."

Crossing into the schoolyard where the younger children are already playing, Val and I exchange confused glances and make our way towards the fountain. The three of us sit in a cluster, and Val sets to work on my hair. I tilt and lean obligingly, watching the students from the Seam hold their own council beneath the oak tree in the furthest corner of the yard.

I've never got to see much of their part of the District, unless I'm running an errand for my father or just wander too far away from home without thinking. It always makes me a little sad to think of how hard they seem to be working just to survive, in some cases.

A gentle tap on the back of my head tells me I can return to my original upright position. "Thanks, Val," I say, reaching up to tug on the end of my braid. Because I honestly don't mind when she does my hair—it's a confidence boost that I could always use.

The school bell rings out across the courtyard, and chaos ensues. It isn't until I was safely in the upper classroom that I took a better look at the people who'd been coming to school with me for the past few years.

The Seam children, mostly boys, are rowdy still, and as the teacher enters, she offers them a harassed look. I understand her concern. We never really know what to expect from them, whether it be a forced sort of politeness or outright hostility.

"It is time for role call," she announces stiffly. We quiet down to a manageable level, and she reads over her lists. I allowed myself to tune out for the first two forms, as I know my name certainly won't be mentioned there.

"Fifth form: Valyrie Camden." Val's hand is in the air before our teacher can even finish her name, and it's all I can do not to laugh. Val _loves_ school, although I can't understand why. It's boring and repetitive and—

"Do we not have a Maysilee Donner with us?" I notice then that Laurie was staring at me, amused.

"I'm here!" My voice is a bit louder than I intended, but it's too late to change that now. Everyone's eyes are on me, and I offer a small wave. "Sorry I didn't hear you the first time."

A snicker from the Seam side of the room draws my attention. He has a fist in front of his face to hide the damn smirk, but I know exactly which of the boys it was.

My eyes narrow slightly at him and his widen in response. What an idiot. I roll my eyes in dismissal and turn back to the front of the room. I'm curious to know his name, though, and sixth form role tells me: Haymitch Abernathy.

_30:00:04:24_

Lunchtime in school is the closest thing I've ever seen to a festival like the ones they have in the Capital. Every form is sent to the courtyard again, left alone for an hour to socialize as we please. That is to say, most of the merchant children gather around the fountain, the Seam children retreat to their oak tree, and only the very young or very brave meet in the middle. I noticed today that we're greatly outnumbered, even when half the older Seam kids leave for their jobs in the mines.

I spot Haymitch before I can help myself, and for a few seconds, I let myself stare. As far as boys go, he isn't at all bad looking. The Seam is fairly obvious in him, from the wiry build to the gritty, hand-me-down quality of his clothes, to the piercing gray eyes—that are locked on mine.

My head dips downward, breaking the eye contact. Praying I'm not blushing, I force myself to turn forcefully towards Val. Her sixth form boyfriend, Quentin Mellark, is in the process of telling what must have been another boring story.

Quentin, the baker's son, isn't particularly known for his charming wit. He does, however, have most of the girls fastened on his every word based entirely on looks alone. I even fancied him myself for the week before he announced he was courting Val. Horrible timing on my part, really.

"It was then my father noticed that he'd been using red icing instead of blue. His head almost exploded! Honestly, this little vein in his head was positively swollen—"

Val catches my eye, and I mouth 'fascinating', just to see the smirk flash across her face. It isn't that she _doesn't_ like Quentin, per say, or that Quentin doesn't like her back. But I'm probably one of the few who have realized that Valyrie Camden is entirely in this relationship to keep her father happy. Her mother passed away three summers ago, and the two Camdens are close as peas in a pod.

Out of sheer boredom, I begin to dissect the sandwich my mother insisted upon packing for me and Laurie both. My nose wrinkles slightly at the sight of tomato—a flavor I can't stand, so I set the whole thing aside and started in on my apple.

It wasn't until there is a pair of shoes planted firmly on the ground in front of me that I look up. A boy of about twelve or thirteen was standing in front of me, an even younger boy clinging to his back like a little monkey.

"He wants to know if you're going to eat that." The older boy spoke for the both of them, apparently. I eye him, noting the gray eyes, too-large clothes, and wary expression. Mostly, though, I notice his ears. Not quite done growing, I note.

"I don't think so," I reply honestly, giving the sandwich another cursory glance. I pick it up and offer it to the little boy. Not breaking eye contact with me, his little hand catches the sandwich and retreats.

"He says thank you," the older boy says, jostling his passenger lightly until the little one gives me a satisfied nod, already nearly finished eating.

"You're perfectly welcome," I respond, smiling in response to the boy's obvious pleasure. "I don't much care for tomatoes. You were very," I shift my gaze to his older companion. "polite to ask—"

"We shouldn't be feeding them, Maysilee."

Interrupted, I turn to stare incredulously at Quentin. He doesn't bother looking at me, instead staring down the two boys who grow more uncomfortable by the second. Getting to his feet, Quentin looks quite intimidating as he stands next to me.

"They're not stray dogs, Quentin. They're people." I find myself strangely defensive of my new friends. They're harmless, and certainly much more polite than _he's _being.

"They're from the Seam. That's almost the same thing."

Jaws drop throughout the circle, and the entire schoolyard notices. The Seam boys from our class are instantly beside the fountain, arms crossed and eyes fiery. The handful of merchant boys suddenly look uncomfortable, but Quentin faces everyone with the overconfidence that is all too characteristic of him.

"Is there a problem here?" A boy speaks up from the Seam side, and we turn our heads from the bullheaded Quentin to the newcomer like watching a tennis volley. He's skinny like most of them are, but his mouth seems permanently turned upwards, like he's laughing to himself at some private joke. I instinctively like him much more than Quentin.

"Nope." Quentin's voice is falsely light, and our gazes fixate on him again. "The beggars were just leaving, weren't you?"

The boy with the big ears and the small passenger takes a hesitant step back, nodding. He's smart to avoid a fight with Quentin, even if the whole situation is leaving a wretchedly empty feeling in my stomach.

"Didn't know there was any harm in sharing. Could be wrong, though." The voice, smooth and calm, belongs to Haymitch. It suits him, I decide. When he steps forward, I realized just why he had been so quick to step up. He and the older boy are obviously related. Brothers, probably.

"Sharing implies you've got something to trade that we might want."

"He said sharing, not trading." My own input surprises me more than anyone else in the circle. Both Quentin and Haymitch break their stare down to each send a glance my way. I focuse my attention on the two first boys. "And I'm more than happy to share. Honestly."

I get a half-smile from both of the piggyback parties and my own responding smile is enthusiastic. I liked everyone n this circle more than Quentin right now.

"Well, look at that," Haymitch drawls, his eyes never leaving my face. "I guess not all merchants aren't soulless, greedy, self-absorbed bastards, after all."

He might not have seen Quentin's fist fly out, but his friend—the smiling one—manages to pull him back by his shirt fast enough that Quentin only grazes his chin. The sound makes the other merchant girls around the fountain scream and run for cover.

I personally find myself stuck in the crush as Haymitch leaps forward, landing a much better punch in the dead center of Quentin's face. Almost immediately, the two are a blur of fists and angry words that I was far too close to for comfort.

It's even more chaotic than getting to our classrooms. Everyone's yelling, surrounding us in a crush, cheering on their respective walk in life. It isn't until I spotted Val's arms around Quentin's neck, trying to drag him backwards, that I figured there's a way I could help, too. Not thinking it through at all, I shove Haymitch's fists away from Quentin.

It wasn't until his left fist stops a hair away from my face that my breathing almost completely stops and I realize just how stupid that move had been.

"What the hell, Spacecase?! Are you trying to get yourself knocked out?" Haymitch's voice is still filled with hate, and I noticed that his lip is bleeding.

"No, I just thought you should quit being stupid!" I point at Quentin, who's locked in a heated argument with Val. She didn't appear to be winning. "Fighting with him, that's stupid. Don't waste your time with idiots."

His head tilts as I speak, a look of grudging amusement settling on his face. "You don't get it, do you?" Haymitch's tone changes from violent to pitying so fast that I bristle almost immediately.

"Get what? That Quentin's a bully and a blockhead and built like a wall?" My arms cross over my chest. This whole situation could've been avoided, obviously. "Grow up, Abernathy. Be a bigger man than Quentin Mellark."

"Not so difficult when he can't even throw a good punch!" Haymitch manages to shout his response just loud enough that Quentin turns around and charges him. I try to leap out of the way, sensing where we would end up, but it's too late and I'm knocked into the fountain just the same.

I sit up, spluttering and coughing up water, desperate to get away from the boys who are still throwing punches. Laurie and Val fish me out, their eyes filled with panic.

"You alright?" An unfamiliar, but concerned voice asks. I look up from wringing out my braid to see the smiley Seam boy grinning down at me.

"I'm fine." The teachers have finally arrived, and are currently attempting to pry Quentin and Haymitch apart.

"You're a saint for trying to rein Haymitch in, even if that was the most misguided attempt I've ever seen." The boy shakes his head, still chuckling to himself. "I'm surprised he stopped himself from clocking you. Usually he's very no-holds-barred."

"No offense, but I don't c-c-c-care," I interject. I'm shaking now, chilled by the air.

"Right, right." He nods, lost in his own thoughts, if the faraway gaze could be believed. Just as quickly as he was gone, the boy snaps back to reality and turns to Val. "Hi, there. I noticed you for the first time in my life this morning, Valyrie Camden. My name's Hollis, Hollis Everdeen. And I think you're beautiful. When you're tired of being surrounded by self-entitled bullies, I would be more than willing to show you how the other half lives."

With that, he winks, turns on his heel, and chases after Haymitch, who's stalking of the school premises looking like a wild animal.

Val stares after him, and I notice a blush forming. I couldn't even bring myself to remind her that she has a boyfriend, I'm so shocked. Valyrie Camden is not one for being dazzled by anything.

"What'd that little Seam refugee want?" Quentin appears, shaking water out of his hair. I squint at him, unsure of just why _he_ was staying at school while Haymitch has to leave. For a moment, Val looks distinctly embarrassed.

"He wanted me to tell you that he's seen old women take better hits." My lie brings fire back into Quentin's eyes, and I'm grateful for the fact that both the Seam boys have already disappeared.

_29:18:12:30_

School, despite being very cold and damp for me, ends up continuing uneventfully after lunch. It wasn't until Laurie and I are both working in the back room of the store, doing inventory, that my sister starts to bring up what happened today.

"The Seam kids are getting out of line," she huffs, straightening up to push a bag of flour more securely onto its shelf. For the second time today, my jaw drops.

"You're kidding, right?" I glare at the strings of basil we have hanging from the rafters. "I think Val should start keeping her blockhead boyfriend on a leash. Sounds more beneficial for all of us." My thoughts go back to the way the two boys in the courtyard had retreated from out of range of his fists.

Laurie shrugs, and it's then that I remember she and Val were some of the first girls to flee the scene. They didn't see as much as I did. "I still think the teachers were right to send that boy home. He's a problem, and you can't tell me otherwise."

I send an elbow directly into her ribs. She gasps, rather melodramatically, until she notices that both Haymitch and Hollis are wandering around the shop.

"What're they doing here?" Laurie's voice is childish again, which tempts me to punch her in the arm. She sounds like an entitled merchant brat, and the Seam boys mostly make me want to dissociate myself from all their behavior.

It's then we notice half the District is in or around the store. Tesserae day. I look around to find my father, pleased to note he's already setting up the books. I glance at Haymitch, flashing my most charming smile.

"We'll be right with you," I inform the gathering crowd. "If you'd like to form an orderly queue, we'd be very grateful."

A few grumble and roll their eyes but move anyways, and before I really know what's happening the entire Donner family is hard-pressed to keep our expansive line moving: taking note of people's Tesserae, counting out their rations, and helping them get it moving.

"Can I have your name, age, and claim, please?" I asked, hastily scribbling the most recent ration out before turning my eyes upwards. I recognize the face, and wonder if I've really just been oblivious my whole life.

"Hollis Everdeen, sixteen, three." He leans conspiratorially over the counter, raising an eyebrow. "I'm not opposed to you slipping me a little extra something, though, Spacecase."

I can't help it; I smile back at the lazy grin that's always on Hollis's face. That is, before I recognize his nickname for me.

"You're not going to get anything if you keep calling me that." I write his name down but keep up my most serious expression while doing so. Hollis shrugs, unperturbed.

"I'll take my chances. We just like how it sounds, Donner. Besides, everyone knows you aren't allowed to pick your own nickname. Consider it an honor." I just shake my head, already knowing that it'd be pointless to argue with him.

My father slips into the back to bring out Hollis's three rations, and the Seam boy takes them with a polite nod.

"See you at school tommorrow, Spacecase!"

"New friend?" Father asks, keeping his tone conversational as he takes in my exasperated expression and Hollis's cheerful one.

"I think so," I respond, shrugging slightly before Laurie appears out of the store room. It's time for us to switch jobs and she's very ready to give up on carting grain and oil, I can tell.

"We're switching," Laurie tells me before turning to the girl with red hair standing in front of the books. "Name, age, and claim, please?" I groan inwardly as the girl says six. That's a wretchedly high number.

I go back to the store room anyways. There's got to be some way to save myself two trips. A particularly daring amount of stacking and layering makes it possible for me to carry all six rations in one attempt.

I can't see in front of me at all, but I'm not about to quit now. Wobbling slightly, I make my way towards the front of the store. It isn't until I trip that I realize that for the second time today, I've done something incredibly stupid.

My eyes are closed and I'm waiting for the inevitable crash as the weight I was holding disappears.

"You look like an idiot, Spacecase." My eyes snap open to see Hollis, loaded up with the rations, heading back towards the redhead. None of us know quite what to say as he helps her load the beaten-up child's wagon she has outside. Father looks pensive as the Seam boy helps.

"Stay," Father advises Hollis when he returns. For the first time in our short mutual awareness, Hollis looks confused.

"We need you to carry rations for us," my father continues. "I'm more than happy to pay you for your time."

Laurie and I make eye contact behind our father's back, and a quick exchange of questions via eyebrow and shoulder movements ensues. Neither of us really expected him to hire someone to help us, especially not on the spot like this, I muse as Hollis nods reluctantly.

I'm certainly not going to complain as he single-handedly carries half the product that Laurie and I would be struggling with. With Father and Hollis doing the lifting and my sister's and my quick bookkeeping, the crowd clears out much sooner than usual.

The doors finally shut and the four of us stare at each other, thoroughly exhausted.

"I think that went well," Hollis remarks, and Father responds with a smile.

"Better than expected, that's for sure." He sounds tired, which usually means he's about to retreat to the back room like he usually does.

Instead straightens his shoulders and nods towards the stairway that goes up to our apartment above the store. Hollis blinks once, unsure at what kind of invitation is being extended.

"I think that's his way of inviting you to dinner," Laurie points out with a grin, already halfway towards the stairs. "I'm going to go tell Mother to set another plate, since we're bringing a guest."

Hollis is already shaking his head, mumbling protests as he edges towards the door. I feel my brows drop in confusion, not knowing why he's so skittish all of a sudden. Father seems to understand, though.

"No need, Laurelie," he calls after her, and she pauses on the stairs. Her expression matches mine, and we both watch to see what's going on. He goes back in the store room after all, and emerges after a few minutes with a basket filled to the brim with foods that are quite a bit more expensive than your average tessera.

"Y-you don't have to—" My father's expression stops Hollis's protests.

"This is your payment. And it'll be matched any time you come in and help."

Laurie and I watch, almost dumbstruck to watch the mild-mannered gentleman we've been calling our father become this self-assured businessman. It takes a moment, but Hollis steps forward, takes the basket and shakes my father's hand firmly.

"They know where to find me," he answers, nodding over at Laurie and I, flashing us a quick smile. It's the same smile I got earlier today from Haymitch's brother and his passenger. It warms my soul. "I'll be around. Thank you, sir."

It isn't until Hollis has left and we're all gathered around the table eating dinner that I notice my father still has that approving smile on his face.

_29:15:08:25_

It's late enough that Laurie and I are both preparing for bed. We're discussing pros and cons of the day, businesslike and just as argumentative as any other day. It's as much a part of our routine as the way we're both brushing out our hair.

I've grown up with everyone insisting that we look so very alike—and I still don't see it. Her hair is brighter than mine, her eyes are bluer, her face is more heart-shaped than mine, and I can assure you that my nose is nothing like the delicate little slope of hers… Laurelie is the prettier half of the Donner twins, a fact I've accepted for a long time.

"What're you looking at?" She asks, her eyes widening as she leans forward to take up even more of the mirror. She tilts her head to inspect her pores from every angle. "I'm not breaking out anywhere, am I?"

"Nah," I make a show of squinting at her. "Your ugliness just made me go temporarily blind, that's all." We both laugh and I slide under her arm to reclaim my half of the mirror. She attempts to squish me under her weight, but I shrug her off and wiggle free.

"It doesn't matter how either of us look as long as Val exists," Laurie points out, using one hand to pull her hair back while inspecting how it looks in the mirror. She's not wrong, at all. Val's the prettiest girl I've ever met. "Damn her."

We laugh for a bit, until Laurie turns away and flops onto her bed. Encouraged by this, I sidle over to mine, candle in tow. I place it on the bedside table that separates our beds, and wait for her to blow it out. Laurie does things in her own time, but I know she'll do it eventually.

"I'd say today was quite a success," my sister decides finally, looking at me instead of the ceiling. Still settling myself into bed, I only manage a quick grunt in the affirmative.

"I think you've got an admirer from the Seam, too," she continues mischievously. She suddenly has my complete attention, and I wonder why I'm blushing.

"What does that even mean?" I manage to choke out, nestling now in my covers to hide said blush from Laurie.

"The boys you so _kindly_ shared your lunch with probably love you now," she explained, giggling. "Not to mention you stood up to Quentin for them. I'd certainly love you after that."

She's already stopped speaking by the time my pillow smacks her square in the face. Laurie's still giggling when she hands it back, but I'm not. My smile feels a bit forced, since it stays plastered on my face even after she's blown out the candle.

I don't know why I feel so disappointed by what she's said, but I'm not sure I want to find out.


End file.
